


The Stone Lady of Dragonstone and the Princess of the Realm

by waterlilyvioletfog



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Cute Kids, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, fucking fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 00:41:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17839127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlilyvioletfog/pseuds/waterlilyvioletfog
Summary: Ned never comes South, so Stannis becomes Hand, Shireen moves to KL permanently, and Myrcella FIGHTS EVERYONE ON HER COUSIN'S BEHALF AS THE GODS INTENDED IT.





	The Stone Lady of Dragonstone and the Princess of the Realm

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this fic on tumblr like forever ago feel free to fight me there or here I'm always ready to punch dipshits in the face for my babies.

Shireen Baratheon came to King Robert’s court when Myrcella was eleven years old. Shireen was a year older than Myrcella, but she was short enough and thin enough to look younger. She was quiet and shy and she didn't dress like the other ladies of the court. Her large ears stuck out from her head awkwardly when her hair wasn’t arranged in front of them, her jaw was square and jutted out from her face, and though she had porcelain pale skin, coal black hair, and lake blue eyes of the Baratheons, she was decidedly not pretty. The final mark against her, in the eyes of the court, was the stretch of flaky grey-black scarring that covered the left half of her left cheek and crept down her neck. 

The court shunned her. At least, so far as they could. There was no open hatred, as she _was_ the niece of the King and the daughter of the Master of Ships and none would dare say something in public for fear of Stannis Baratheon and King Robert. King Robert was rather fond of Shireen, saying that she was a proper Baratheon, and clever as they came. It was generally agreed that King Robert was half-mad and half-drunk, so his opinion on any subject didn’t particularly matter. It was widely understood by the court that Shireen Baratheon was Not To Be Assoicated With by any courtier of good taste and good friends. 

Shireen, despite her odd appearance and overall lack of friends, settled into her new life in King’s Landing. She spent a great deal of time with her father’s squire, Devan Seaworth, a boy of thirteen with a solemn face, the rough features of the smallfolk, and brown curls. Devan, like Shireen, was quiet and bookish and obedient, and whenever he could get away from his duties to the Master of Ships (and she from her domineering mother) the two spent their time in the library, learning as much as they possibly could. 

The lordlings and knights mocked her and made fun of Devan for “following that homely girl around like a lovesick puppy” as they put it. Devan was constantly being made fun of. But he did not complain about it to Shireen. The ladies were worse. Their delight in ignorance and beauty made Shireen a veritable pariah amongst her peers. 

Myrcella Baratheon, Princess of the Realm, saw all of this and decidedly did not like it. Lady Shireen was sweet and sad, clever as they came as her father put it, and best of all: she had the mind of an explorer.

“I want to go to far-off places,” Shireen told Myrcella once over tea, “I’d like to see Oldtown and Lannisport, the Wall and Braavos. I want to see the elephants of Volantis and the butterflies of Naath. I want to travel past Yi Ti, all the way to Asshai-By-The-Shadow if I can manage it. The world is so very big, your Grace.” Here, she leaned closer, “I want to sail out into the Sunset Sea, Your Grace. I want to see if there is a land beyond it, to see Unknown lands and try to understand them.” Her eyes had sparkled and a small smile had lit up her homely features as she spoke and for an instant, Myrcella thought, her lady cousin was decidedly pretty. 

One afternoon, Shireen was taking tea with Myrcella’s ladies in her garden. The Princess Myrcella had a beautiful garden, even during autumn, filled with bright red geraniums, sky blue forget-me-nots, white roses, and every shade of chrysanthemum there was. The ladies sat in the gentle shade of a vast old oak, chatting merrily amongst themselves. Once they had been Queen Cersei’s ladies, but Queen Cersei had long ago fallen to drinking her way through the day every bit as much as her husband did. 

Shireen did not hear the snide comment, only the titter of laughter from the women surrounding the speaker. Shireen recognized the cadence of their giggles: mockery. Shireen could make a very educated guess as to the subject of their merriment. She stared at the yellow fabric of her dress, trying to focus on her hands in her lap and the garment itself rather than them. Black stags and blue flowers alternated on the cuffs of her dagged sleeves. The material was smooth and warm. Her hands were small and pale, and there was an amber ring which had been her Grandmother Estermont’s that her father had given her for her tenth nameday. 

“You take that back this instant, Lady G—-!” Princess Myrcella shot to her feet, clenched hands fisted at her sides, green eyes blazing bright as wildfire. “That is my lady cousin you are speaking of, the heir of Dragonstone!” 

“Heir to a rock full of seagulls and onions.” Lady G—- sneered. The Princess reared back in shock, nostrils flaring, and marched over to where Shireen was sitting. 

“Come along, cousin,” Princess Myrcella said, taking Shireen by the arm, “I do not wish to spent another instant of my time in the company of these ignorant harpies.” And with that, the Princess of the Realm stalked off, the Stone Lady of Dragonstone in bewildered tow. 

After this encounter, the Princess Myrcella joined her lady cousin and Devan in the library more often than not, and the three of them spent many a pleasant afternoon together, laughing and reading and dreaming together of sailing away into the Sunset Sea. 

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all really about to tell me that MYRCELLA MF BARATHEON, a literal QUEEN, who said the famous line "We're children, we're SUPPOSED TO BE CHILDISH" wouldn't fight all the bitches in the world for her cousin Shireen, a sweet harmless nerd who has done nothing wrong in her entire life??? Smh,,


End file.
